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Edith Brown
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Title: Edith Brown
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Publication Date: 1972
Copyright Date: 1972
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Table of Contents
    Cover
        Cover
    Interview
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
Full Text































SOUTHEASTERN INDIAN ORAL HISTORY PROJECT


UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA


In cooperation with the Catawba Nation


INTERVIEWEE: Edith Brown (Mrs. Early Brown)
INTERVIEWER: Emma Echols


DATE: January 25, 1972





















E: This is Emma Reid Echols, Route 6, Box 260, Rock Hill, South
Carolina, January 25, 1972. I am working on the oral history
of the Catawba Indians, and I'm visiting in the home of Mrs.
Edith Brown. Mrs. Brown, will you tell me your full name?

B: My name is Edith Bertha Harris Brown. I was a Harris before
I married.

E: That's right. Now, who were your father and your mother?

B: David Adam Harris was my father, and Lizzy Jane Patterson Harris
was my mother.

E: You're not quite a full-blooded Indian?

B: Not quite, a little bit.

E: Do you know of any of your other ancestors further on back?
Your great-grandparents, do you know who they were?

B: When my mother died, my grandmother, this 'n up here, took us
and raised us. There were four of us.

E: Your grandmother, what was her name?

B: Sarah Jane Harris.

E: Sarah Jane Harris. Now that is her picture you have on the wall--
making pottery?

B: Yes. She's got a gypsy pot, that's what you call a gypsy pot on
her lap.

E: With the handles to it?

B: Yes, and the legs.

E: Who were the four children she took to raise, your brothers and
sister?

B: Well, I'm the oldest one. Then my sister was the second;
and Richard Harris is my brother; and Fanny Harris, my baby sister.

















E: Now is Fanny Harris still living?

B: No, she's dead.

E: Richard, your brother, is he living?

B: He's living down here on the river hill.

E: I believe he was a soldier during World War I...

B: Yes.

E: ...and he remembers many interesting things. He's the one who
told me to come to see you.

B: He did?

E: Yes, he did.

B: He is my full brother.

E: He's your full brother?

B: My father has three sets of children.

E: Tell me about that. Your father was married three times?

B: Yes. He was married to George. He had and Artemis, and
there's two dead. Then they had Raymond, Dennis, Chester, and
Isabelle. Then the third marriage, he had four children by
Dorothy; that was his third wife.

E: Dorothy, what was her last name?

B: Her last name was and [he] had four children by her. One
was David Adam, named after him; and then Laura Ann; and then
Sarah Lee; and Florence.

E: Then as a little girl you were being brought up in your grand-
mothers' home. Where did you go to school?

B: I went to school over there--the little school house built over
yonder.

E: But was it the same place the latest school was built?

B: Uh, yeah.

















E: Above the well, on the road leading up to here?

B: Uh, huh. Right where the trailer is sitting .

E: Now, your brother remembers that he thinks it was just a little
one-room school made of pine slabs.

B: It was just one room then. I believe it was. I bet you it was
long as the shed building, I guess. And it had one heater in
there, and Mrs. Dunlap was the first teacher I went to. She
taught us.

E: Do you know how many years you went to Mrs. Dunlap?

B: I don't remember. I was small. I don't remember, but I remem-
ber I went to school when I was real small. Margaret Harris
came along. She was a daughter of Eph Harris and Martha Jane
Harris, and she came along our house, and she carried me
to school and carried me back home.

E: You were just a little tiny girl?

B: Yes, ma'am.

E: Must have been a long day for a little girl to be at school all
day, wasn't it?

B: Yes.

E: Do you remember any of the other children that went to school
with you?

B: Yes. Sally Let's see, she's a now, but she was
a Brown then; and Early Brown, and Nelson Blue, and Arthur _
Oh, there's a bunch. I can't think of all of 'em that went to
school, all the names, but I know those.

E: Did some of them live across the river, and come across on a flat?

B: Yeah.

E: Who were some of the ones who lived across the river?

B: Jim and his wife, and they have a daughter named Leora.
They come from across over there, and there's others lived over
there, too, I think.

















E: The family live over there, too?

B: Yes.

E: Now, did you ever see the flat, or the little canoe that they
crossed the river on?

B: Yes. I saw them.

E: Did they all come on this flat, or did some of them come in
little canoes?

B: Well, some of them...most everybody ride on the flats, but
then you could.... If you wanted to come just one person...
come over, they'd bring 'em over in the little canoe, you
know. But if it's a wagon...in them times, there wasn't too
many cars; they'd bring the wagon or something over in the
flat.

E: Then there'd be a good long distance for them to walk after
they got off the flat, and walk up to the scho61. Wouldn't
it be a couple of miles, you think?

B: No, it would be. Right down there below...down the river, where
we used to have a flat on that river....

E: I have to go down there and see that river one of these days.

B: It's growed up in there so bad. I ain't been down there in
years. I wouldn't know the place to go to it now. Used to
be open, and they'd bring a flat across, and you could....
There's a little road come right up to here then, come on to
the church over there.

E: Your mother and father are buried in the ancient cemetery, is
that right?

B: Yes.

E: And do you have any other kinfolks over there that are buried
in that ancient cemetery?

B: Most everybody over there is akin to me.

E: I bet they are.


B: Yeah. We're all akin to one another.

















E: Years ago they used to have a little house over there they
called the little burial house. Do you ever remember a little
burial house?

B: No, I don't.

E: I didn't know whether you might ever remember anybody ever
telling you about it, or not. There's so many interesting
stories about.... I saw the old tombstone over there of
Thomas Stevens, the old man who froze to death. Of course,
you're too young to really remember him.

B: I remember him.

E: Oh, you do?

B: He used to come and visit us when my grandmother was raisin'
us. He stayed with us when my mother was living. He was just
an old man.

E: Do you remember what he looked like?

B: Well, he was old, and his hair was just as white as it could
be, he wasn't a great big man, but he was built up kind of
heavy. He would come over and stay around with us people, and
with different families, you know.

E: Would he help with working the fields, or wherever you were
working around there?

B: No, he didn't help. And when he get tired of staying with this
family, he'd just go and stay with another family for awhile,
you know. He'd just beg around over at the reservation like
that.

E: I suppose he just had to carry a little pack of his things on
his back, didn't he?

B: Well, I guess. I don't remember now just how he carried his
clothes.

E: How long did he stay with you? Several weeks?

B: Yes, he'd stay several weeks.


E: Now, he spoke the Catawba language, didn't he?
















B: Yes, he did. I don't remember; I guess he did, 'cause it stayed
around real long.

E: Did he ever tell you anything about his family or where he came
from?

B: No.

E: Nobody ever knew this?

B: No.

E: Did he ever sing to you? Arzada Sanders remembers that he'd
go out in the woods and beat on a log, and .h'd sing to the
children. Did you ever hear him sing any of his songs?

B: No. I don't know. I don't remember him singing to us. He
might have did; I remember he would go off and come back, and
he'd bring wild grapes to us, and persimmons, like that.

E: To the children?

B: Um, huh.

E: He seemed to like the children very much, did he?

B: Yes.

E: I guess he liked you all--he'd tell you stories, and play games
with you and bring you little gifts of candy. He didn't have
any money to buy you anything.

B: No. He didn't have no money.

E: Do you remember the last time he ever came by? Did he come by
and tell you all ;good-by before he went away? He went away in
1905 when he froze to death. Do you remember when he came by
and told you all good-by?

B: No, I wasn't here. My father sent us off to a government school.

E: Oh, is that right? Where did you go to school?

B: I went to Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

E: Oh, you don't mean it? Now what year were you in Carlisle,
Pennsylvania? Do you have any idea?

















B: I went in 1905 and stayed till 1909.

E: You stayed five years? Now, what other children from here went
to Carlisle?

B: My sister, and my other half-sister went, and then my cousin of
ours went, and me.

E: Now, let's get the names?


B: Nelson Blue went out there some, and Wade Ayres went.
out there, and was buried out there...took sick. And
went out there.


E: Now, let's see...your sister went--the one whose
here. Now, her name was...?


He died
George


picture's up


B: Lavinia.

E: Lavinia. And then your cousin was named...?

B: My other half-cousin was Artemis Harris...

E: Yes.

B: And then my cousin Mary Ayres.

E: And your ?

B: Um, huh.

E: That was a wonderful thing, that you got to go away and learn
that, wasn't it?

B: Um, huh. I took homesick.

E: But you stayed on there, didn't you?


B: Um, huh. And after I stayed there, I liked it.
to come home...y'all come back home, and I was


When I got ready
ready to go back.


E: Did you have any schooling between the time Mrs. Dunlap taught
you and the time you went off to Carlyle? Any other teachers?
Did Mr. Gillespie ever teach you? Or Miss Macie Stephenson?

B: I don't remember that. I think I did go to onebetween that time.

















E: There was a lady, Mrs. Macie, who drove a horse and buggy and
taught the children. Sally Wade remembers her. Do you remem-
ber her or not?

B: I don't remember, but I know I went there to school.

E: What did you do when you came home from school?

B: Well, we stayed home, and I stayed with my grandmother; she was
still living.

E: And then what year were you married?

B: 1910.

E: And to Early Brown?

B: Right. Yeah.

E: Had he been in the same school as you?

B: No, he hadn't.

E: But he was an Indian?

B: Yes.

E: A full-blooded Indian, I believe.

B: No, he wasn't a full-blooded Indian. No.

E: Now, where did you and Early Brown live when you got married?

B: Well, we stayed up there at that house up there, right up the
hill yonder where his mother and daddy was living. I don't
know how long we stayed down there. My first baby was born
up there--Edward Brown.

E: How many children did you have besides Edward?

B: I have four children living, and Edward. He's passed away.
Soon be three years.

E: My goodness.

B: He was fifty-seven.

















E: And he was buried in the new cemetery?

B: Yeah.

E: Now what are the other children's names, besides Edward?

B: Evelyn, and Lizzie Jane, and Richard, and William, who lives
right up there in that blue house.

E: Now, are the girls married too?

B: One of 'em is divorced, and one of 'em's married, and she lives
in New Mexico.

E: Does she come to see you very often?

B: Been two years since she been here.

E: I know you're anxious to see her.

B: Yeah, I just wrote a letter to her today.

E: Now, tell me, your whole went to Curritan's Ferry?

B: Down here at Curritan's Ferry.

E: Curritan's Ferry?

B: Yeah.

E: Tell me about that. I want to know what did it look like, and
did you live close to the river then? In a house close to the
river?

B: Yeah, the house was close to the river.

E: How many rooms did you have? Was it a log house?

B: No, it wasn't no log house. It was a plank house. We had two
rooms there.

E: So many of you are carpenters. Early...did he build this house
himself?

B: No. You see, the county built it for us.

















E: Yes. And so they paid him a salary to operate the ferry?

B: Um, huh. Yes.

E: Now, who operated that ferry before Early?

B: His father.

E: Who is his father?

B: John Brown. His father operates the Curritan Ferry--that's down
below the ferry where Early operated, on back up this way, where
Early run the ferry. From Catawba, it went to...the road crosses
and goes to

E: You sometimes call it the Ash Ferry, don't you?

B: Yeah. Then the Curritan Ferry is on down below it.

E: 'Bout a couple of miles below it?

B: Yes. Way down the river.

E: So, Early operated the Ash's Ferry and the Curritan's Ferry was
operated by his father, John?

B: Yes.

E: Well, that was real interesting. How busy was your husband kept
operating this ferry? Many times he'd have to take people across?

B: Yeah. Many times they went across--night and day both. When
people come and want across, why he'd get up and put 'em across,
you see.

E: Now, his flat would take cars or wagons or...?

B: Yeah. Two. I think it'd take two cars, I believe, on the flat.

E: Did you and your husband have a garden down there when you were?

B: Well, I have a garden. Yeah. And I work a garden now, and I work
flowers, too!

E: How old...how young are you?

B: Well, I'm seventy-eight years old now.

















E: You don't look it.

B: I'll be seventy-nine in June.

E: You look mighty young to be that, and very active to do all
that. Mr. Lineberger remembers you and Mr. Early down there.
He said you were mighty good neighbors to him. Do you remem-
ber the Lineberger family?

B: Yes.

E: Now, I imagine you have lots of white friends, as well as Indian
friends.

B: Yeah. 'Cause, you know, you get to meet people that's crossing,
you know. Then they cross regular, and you know 'em.

E: Who were some of the white people you got to know down there?

B: I don't remember.

E: Where did you go to do your buying and your shopping for groceries?
Did you go to Catawba Junction?

B: No, we go to Neely's Store.

E: Now, did you have a horse and buggy, or horse and wagon, or mule
and wagon? How did you go to Neely's Store?

B: A lot of times they get some where they take 'em, you know. They...
a horse and wagon, or something' like....

E: If you had a good garden, you wouldn't have to get very many, did
you? You get sugar and coffee and things like that in the store,
wouldn't you?

B: Yes.

E: But most of the things you'll have already in cans or preserves?

B: Yes.

E: Did you dry some of your fruit? Did you dry some of your apples
and fruits to have?

B: Yeah. My grandmother used to dry fruit, and dry pumpkins, too.
Take the seed out of the pumpkin, and leave the hull on, and
















just cut around in a big ring and put it up on the pole and let
it dry that way in the house. And then they'd kill rabbits, and
they would let the rabbits in a big sack. They'd hook the rabbit
by its leg, and let it hang in front of the fire and dry like that.
And it wouldn't spoil.

E: You don't mean it? What about squirrels? Did you use squirrels?

B: I don't remember about squirrels now. Don't remember about squirrels,
but I remember 'bout rabbits.

E: Were there plenty of fish up and down that Catawba River, too?

B: Yeah. My grandmother loved to fish. She would take me fishing
with her, and make me sit way back upon the bank.

E: She didn't want you to bother her when she was fishing?

B: She's afraid I'd fall in the river.

E: But you didn't dry your fish; you could catch fresh fish, couldn't
you?

B: Um, huh. And she'd set hooks late in the evenings like this.
She goes back early the next morning and there'd be fish on the
hooks, you see. But the water'd be low--just a little bit of
water'd be down there, tail'd be flappin in the water. The
river goes down at night.

E: You had plenty of good fish to eat?

B: Yeah.

E: What are some of the other good things you had to eat when you
were living down there?

B: Well, I don't remember. I know we had enough vegetables and things.

E: What about medicines? Did you ever use any of Chief Blue's medi-
cines, or did you use other kinds of medicines?

B: Ed had been sick, and used medicine. I can make cough syrup out
of herbs now. I make cough syrup.

E: You do?

B: For some of the children. I take catnip and some wild cherry bark,
and you skin it down (don't skin it up) and mint and some pine

















needles, and cook all of that.together. I put a aspirin in it
and some sody, and cook it. And then I strain it through the
strainer into another vessel, and then I put my sugar in it till
it come to a syrup. And it tastes...it's good.

E: It sounds like it would taste pretty good. The children like the
taste?

B: Yeah.

E: Well, now you have some grandchildren that you like to nurse up
with that cough syrup?

B: My little granddaughter stayed here, great-granddaughter, and
she was sick burnin' up with fever, and I went and made her some
mint and catnip and put a aspirin in it. She was sick, and I
fixed that for her and give it to her, and she got better.

E: Well, that's wonderful. Do you have any trouble finding those
things close by here?

B: No, they're all around my house.

E: Well, that's good. What did you used to put on when a child
would stump their toe or get hurt? Did you have any salve or
anything you could mix for that?

B: Well, they make salve, too, but I never have made any. You can
make out of onions. You cook a onion and get the juice and get
you some Mentholatum or something, and mix it in with it, and
try to cook it down. You can grease with it for a cold, too.

E: Yes.

B: See, it'll open ya up.

E: There used to be deer up and down this river. You haven't seen
any deer for a long time, have you?

B: No, I haven't.

E: You don't see many birds around here, do you?

B: No, you don't see too many birds now like you used to.

E: Over across the river there's a big owl. Do you ever hear those
owls at night?

















B: Yeah, you hear them yet, late in the evening's. I ain't heard
none right lately, but now when spring begin to come, you'll
hear 'em, just down yonder branch, big ones, and way over 'cross
that way they'll be just big hootin' owls.

E: I haven't heard any of those hooting owls in a long time.

B: 'Bout this time in the evening they'll start to hoot when it
gets warmer. I guess matin', you know, fixin' to mate.

E: When you were a little girl did you ever hear any stories about
the wild Indians?

B: No, I never heard any famous stories. Maybe if they told 'em,
I didn't listen to 'em.

E: Well, I don't blame you. There's lots of stories, you know,
like that--opening your umbrella in the house; you don't want
to open an umbrella in the house.

B: Yeah, I remember. Said, "Don't open a umbrella in the house,
it's bad luck."

E: That's right.

B: And a black cat crossing the road is bad luck.

E: I think we all have ideas like that.

B: Yeah.

E: Think about goin' to church. I'm sure you went to the Mormon
church didn't you? You and your husband?

B: Yeah.

E: And took your children along with you?

B: Yeah, I took my children with me, night and day. Winter some-
times, if it was real cold, I carried my baby, and the other
little ones walked.

E: How far would it be for you to walk from your home to the church?

B: Oh, it wouldn't been too far. I just walked right across over
there.

















E: That was their white stucco Mormon church, right?

B: Yes.

E: It was quite a landmark.

B: Um, uh.

E: Now, was it warm when you get inside the church?

B: Yes. It was warm.

E: Were you sorry when they tore that church down, and built up
on that hill near the schoolhouse?

B: Yeah, 'cause we could walk over there, you see. It's just a
mile from here to this church now.

E: Your children then went to school at the Catawba Indian School
on the reservation, didn't they? For awhile?

B: Um, huh.

E: And then where did they go to school?

B: Then they went to Rock Hill to high school.

E: Since you went to Carlisle to get an education, did any of your
children finish from high school? They all went to high school
then, didn't they?

B: Um, huh. One of 'em, my daughter that's in New Mexico, she went
to high school to the tenth grade.

E: Well, good. Now, where are your children working?

B: My daughter lives in town. She's working' for...oh, I can't think...
she's been working for 'em about sixteen years in Mathews, the lady
make curtains. My son lives in town. He's not...they're disabled,
they can't work. My son up there did work in the mill, but he ain't
worked in eight years. That kind of crippling disease...he gets
when he walks; it's in his legs and back, and he can't walk good.
The other son, he's worse than he is. And my other daughter lives
in New Mexico--she's a bus driver, drives a school bus.


E: And Mrs. Brown, how many grandchildren do you have?

















B: Oh, I couldn't tell you how many I got. Last time I counted I
had forty-two great grandchildren, and thirty-two grandchildren.
I ain't counted them in a long time.

E: They can only come to see you a few at a time, can't they?

B: I reckon when they get ready. Some of 'em, I don't see 'em
for three or four months, and then they come and see me. Come
home Sundays. down by Chester or some place down in
there. Most all of 'em live in town, but these right up in here.

E: But you look after yourself; you do your own cooking and raise
your own flowers and your garden?

B: Um, huh.

E: And who brings your groceries to you?

B: Well, I got a niece--she takes me places where I want to go...
takes me to the doctor and takes me to get my groceries.

E: That's good. And which niece is that?

B: Sherri Osbourne. She lives up there right in the house up where
the chief used to live, Chief Blue, right across from the church.

E: Now, your husband's been dead a number of years, hasn't he? When
did your husband, Early Brown, die?

B: He's been dead 'bout...oh, 'bout nine or ten years, I reckon.

E: So many people around where you live at Catawba Junction, and
around the ferry, remember your husband and remember you as
raising a very fine family down there.

B: We had dirt roads all through here, and the road right in front
of my house goes right down here across the back. There's this
other stream of water way up yonder, and they all work up on the
river, and work cotton and corn. That whole place up there and
down here, the row my brother raises, and on down the river, it
all was worked in corn and cotton.

E: That was a good farming land, wasn't it?

B: Yes.

E: There wasn't much of it on the reservation that was good, but the
bottom lands were good.

















B: Um, huh.

E: Now, wasn't there a road...?

B: My grandmother, her husband was dead, but she had people to work
for her. She had her own mules; she had two big ol' mules, and
the people would come and.... Frank Collins, outside the reser-
vation, he worked her land for her. He'd come and get the mules,
and go on and work her land. She had land up the river, and land
all down...river bottoms down by the Rich's, and she had corn and
sweet potatoes, and all down there she raised.

E: Now did she pay him so much to work her farm? And then did he
give her a share of the crops, or what was the...?

B: Share of the crops, you know. And she had cows, and raised pigs,
she did. In that time, when I was coming' up, and when I was married,
too, we all had cows and chickens, and everybody raised pigs, and
all the Indians But now very few of 'em do that.

E: Now, you ever go by the road that goes from the reservation here
down to Ash's Ferry, and on down to Curritan's Ferry?

B: Um, huh.

E: Just a dirt road, wasn't it?

B: Yes, just a dirt road.

E: Wouldn't be a very good one, would it?

B: No.

E: Now, what about the woods and timber around here? Would they dig
the trees, and what kind of trees would they dig?

B: Well, there'd be a few big trees, and some little ones. They_
like they use now, 'cause everybody burned wood. And they'd go in
the woods and cut wood, you see. Kept the wood _big wood,
when it was big enough, thinned back, cut out, you see. And now
hardly anybody burns wood. I think just me and my brother, and I
reckon about four or five families burn wood, I guess. Rest of
'em heat with oil.

E: That' makes it easier ways to heat, doesn't it?


B: Um, huh.
















E: Well, do you remember the flood of 1918, when the bridge was
washed away?

B: Yeah, I remember that.

E: What was it like then?

B: What do you mean?

E: How high did the waters come up?

B: I lived down there on the river, and they come up across the
road in front of the house. We went down there and looked at
it, and it come all up them streams, all up the low streams,
you know. It just come way up, even right down there on that
road where it come way up in there.

E: Now, some of the Indians took their boats and their flats and
ferried people back and forth across the river. Did any of your
family help to do that?

B: Wade River where they went. All the Indians went. They come and
got all the Indian men to take the people back and forth across
the river when that big flood, or to catch the train back and
forth, and all...to get the Indian men, 'cause they said the
Indian men was good swimmers. The people wouldn't ride, didn't
know what else, but with the Indians. And so they had Chief Blue,
and Nelson Blue, and Early Brown and a bunch of 'em--Douglas Harris,
and just a bunch of men from down here to go up there and run them
boats for 'em.

E: That was a wonderful thing you did. There were all kinds of things
floating down that river--pieces of houses, and bales of cotton,
and things like that. Did you see that too? I'm sure you did.

B: Yes. Down here; I didn't go up there but once. I went up there
one time, but I must have had my children with me, so I didn't go
up too close.

E: Now, what about the 1918 flu epidemic? Did that hit your family
very hard, or this community very hard?

B: Yeah. It hit a lot of 'em--families died out. Ernie Sanders's
wife and baby died with it, and John Brown had four children that
died with it. It might have been some more. Some of my children
had it. I was down there in Columbia, one of those boys was sick
with it, and...his daddy was in service in the army down there,

















Fort Jackson then. But it was over with; it didn't go across
over yonder.

E: Did the Red Cross do anything to help you during that flu epi-
demic down there? Do you remember the Red Cross helping in any
way?

B: I don't remember 'bout the Red Cross in that.

E: Well, there've been some hard years down here--the Depression
hit, too, which was difficult for you all down here, I know.
That was in the 1930s and 1940s. Times were hard then, too,
for whites and Indians both, I think.
You've lived such an eventful life. Tell me, what's the
happiest thing you remember?

B: I don't remember. But I've been...had lots of...with my grand-
children and my own children.

E: I know there's still some happy times coming when those grandchildren
all come back to see you again. Isn't that right?

B: Got one grandson up in Alaska in the Air Force.

E: Oh, you do?!

B: Um, huh.

E: And when will he be coming home?

B: He's been in about two years this month. I reckon he signed up
for four years.

E: Did your husband ever speak the Catawba language?

B: I never did hear him, if he did.

E: What about your grandmother? You lived with your grandmother?

B: My grandmother spoke it all the time.

E: Did the children learn any of the words from her?

B: No, they didn't. I wished I had.

E: I do too.

















B: I said many a time I wished I had learned it while.... She'd
sit around, and she'd make pottery every day in the winter.
In the summertime, she'd sit out under two big old cedar trees
and make pottery, and I'd sit out there with her. 'Course then
she took...and then other Indians would come along, and that's
waht she would talk, Indian language to 'em, you know. I don't
know what she said, but....

E: Now, do you make the same kind of pottery today that your mother
used to make?

B: Yeah.

E: How often do you make your pottery?

B: The weather's been warm. You can make some now, put them where
they won't freeze, you know. Wrap 'em up in a box or something'
n'other, and put 'em back. And burn 'em when it's dry weather.
You can make 'em every day if you got the clay.

E: Did you ever go up to College and sell any of your pottery
up there?

B: Yeah, I did a long time ago.

E: Now, the trouble is, you don't know where to sell it, do you?

B: People don't want to give you your price for 'em neither you
know, but it's hard to make.

E: Takes a long time, doesn't it?

B: Um, huh.

E: Who goes and brings you your clay?

B: Well, my daughter went with me one time; we got some.

E: You go across the river to Nesbitt's?

B: Yeah.

E: Is it hard to find the clay over there on the river bank now?

B: Well, it's washed up, you know, filled in. You have to dig
deep to get the clay, get good clay.

















E: What special patterns did you make? Do you make some of the
Indian pipes?

B: Um, huh. I make peace pipes and candle holders and ash trays
and canoes and vases and long-necked pitchers and bowls and
pots, gypsy pots, and all.

E: Now the gypsy pots...the one your mother's making is turned
upside down and has handles. Is it three handles on a gypsy
pot? Or two?

B: Three legs and two handles. 'Course, you put as many handles
on 'em as you want when you make 'em.

E: Now, you make the pots first, and then make the handles?

B: Yes, I make the pots first and let it get dry enough to hold
the handles on it. You can't put the handle right on there
when it's soft. too much. Have to wait till
they get dry enough, and then you put the handles on. Then when
you get it dry enough, you can turn it over, take it loose from
the bottom. If it come loose...sometime it don't come loose
right then. You have to wait, 'cause they're not dry enough,
until you turn it over, and then you can work it over at
the bottom, and make it quite round like a saucer, you see,
and you can put your three legs on it.

E: Then it would take, what...at least a couple of hours to even
make a pot, wouldn't it?

B: Yeah.

E: And then besides adding the handles and the feet, and then burning
it....

B: You had to scrape it and get it smooth, and then let it dry, let
it get good and dry, and then you take you a wet rag and rub over
it, get it smooth, and then get you a rock and rub it and make it
slick and shiny, and then you have to heat it a long time for it
to get hot enough to burn.

E: That's right. Well, I hope I get to see some of your pottery.
Maybe you'll show me some pieces.

B: I haven't got none now.

E: You haven't?


B: No.








22







E: Well, when you make some, I'd like very much to see it. Do any
members of your family make pottery now except you?

B: Yeah, a lot of them makes pottery that can make it, but they
ain't none of 'em doin' any now.

E: When springtime comes, you'll probably make you some more.

B: When the spring comes, a lot of 'em make it then.




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